on beauty

I've always been friends with the most beautiful woman in the room. You know the type - exotic and hot, the kind of woman every man wants to talk with and flirt with, the kind of woman that every woman wants to be friends with. I have always had one of these friends in my life. My current Beauty friend is the one who all my guy friends have asked out and who all the students hit on. She takes it in stride and thinks it's funny but in a "this is so awesome" kind of way. Oddly I find another friend's personality to be more engaging and more spunky which I think makes her more beautiful but looks are what attracts. I am the "also ran" to the Beauty. If the Beauty is in the room I am invisible.

I have a very difficult relationship with my looks. I am very tall so I (literally) stand out from the crowd. My entire life people have told me that I have a "different look". I know I don't look like everyone else. I've heard this from friends, family members and random strangers on the street who feel compelled to comment. My family has always said I "look great" or "look stunning" but these comments feel like they are reflective of what I am wearing, not the features on my face. X used to tell me I was beautiful only in the heat of an argument over some major relationship transgression. With tears streaming down my face and my heart breaking he'd say "You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" Sorry X, but I believe that is manipulation, not a compliment. Other men are quick to comment on my body and how "hot" or "sexy" it is or they comment on my looks only when it's clear they want to get into my pants. I like certain features of my face - my eyes, lips and my smile but I don't like that my face is so long, my head is so big and that I've lost so much hair. I have a rubber-y face and I think I look a little like a kewpie doll. It's hard to look in the mirror without seeing what I don't like, particularly with other people's voices (or the absence of people's voices) rattling in my head. I feel like my face is a completely separate entity from the rest of my body.

I had dinner last night with a former Beauty friend. It's been at least 15 years since I've seen Beauty. We still have a lot in common. Or perhaps it's that we're both mid-30s, have done some considerable wandering and still don't know what it is that we're searching for. There's a sadness in her that is more pronounced than when I saw her last. As I type this and try to recall our evening I can't remember her laughing or smiling or us sharing any happy moment. Her mannerisms are the same - though they're more pronounced and make her seem kind of fake and superficial. Physically the Beauty looks the same as she did long ago though under her makeup I could see my own wrinkles mirrored in her face. She is not the same Beauty of our youth. She has lost joy or a certain joie de vive that has robbed her of that something that made everyone in the room want to be near her. I don't know if she's learned from her trials and she certainly hasn't come out of them unscathed. She's too (for lack of better word) self-absorbed to have grown. I don't think her beauty has helped her. It may have opened doors but it has not lead to a happier life.

At dinner we were talking about men, specifically my dating trials. This may surprise some of you (though hopefully it won't) but I don't look for a specific "type". Sure the Adonis' are nice to look at but they're not who I go for at all. I rely on online dating to take the guesswork out of things so I go for the guys who can string two sentences together and who seem to have more going for them than "Sox, going to the gym and hanging out". Every guy that I've dated and have had feelings for becomes both handsome and sexy the more I get to know them. In this context Beauty said that I shouldn't sell myself short and even though I was "different looking" than I could still get the hot guy. First, I don't want the "hot guy". Second, "Different looking??" Beauty tried to back pedal and said it was my height that made me so different looking. Ouch. Ouch, ouch, ouch. I don't know why this hurt so much, considering I've heard the same comments my entire life. I've never had a Beauty say it to me and thank god she didn't say it to me when we were younger because I probably would have slit my wrists on the spot.

In some ways, I wish I had a different face, one that fit in more with everyone else's face. But what would I have to give up? My life would be different with a different face but I don't necessarily think it would be easier. For every thing that became easier something else would become harder. At my advanced age I've certainly gotten more comfortable with my looks - to be honest right now with nary a mirror in my entire condo it's easy to go for days without scrutinizing and judging what I look like (although mascara application is a challenge I'd rather do without!) - and my face has changed as I've aged and surely it will continue to do so. My face is familiar to me even though I don't always recognize myself. Better hair would be nice but I would rather change parts of my personality or how I react to things instead of sacrificing more sleep time to grooming, beautification and mask application. We're all going to age, Beauty included, if my looks were the one thing I could rely on and then suddenly they're gone, what would I have?

No one ever told me I was pretty when I was a little girl. All little girls should be told they're pretty, even if they aren't. ~ Marilyn Monroe